Caught in a storm
from our own
mishandling.
We’re reviewing
our curse,
not a blessing
from Heaven,
for we
are living a Hell
for losing.
The silence,
from severing
the stability
of our wings,
brought us here.
Other times
when we weren’t,
we were just dreaming
without pause,
without a cause
to implement
its worth.
Such times,
when remembered,
grant us an excuse
to abandon the present,
to push in footprints
that go backwards
into a more
forgiving world.
A drop of gold
causes us to fold,
under a spell
of fear,
to no longer hear
our heartbeats
right now.
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